“Love is, above all else, the gift of oneself.” Jean Anouilh
After 15 years as a mother, the reasons why I think it’s so important to be there for my kids are not what you would think. I hear and read, “I want to be there for their first steps. Or their first word. To see all the milestones.”
That sounds all nice, warm and fuzzy, but to tell you the truth, I can’t remember any of those. (I’m sure it’s marked in baby books somewhere. I do know the last two took their first steps to Grandma and Dad respectively. Traitors.)
The times when I have been so thankful that I was able to be there for my kids are quite different. I remember one time especially. Due to the graphic nature of this paragraph, no names will be mentioned.
I had a sweet little guy, maybe three at the time, who very suddenly had a terrible stomachache. He was a shy one, very private and modest, but I quickly gave my advice: sit on the toilet and things might get better. But they didn’t. They got worse – much worse. He started crying and I rushed in to sit with him. Soon he was in a serious panic. Typically a calm, good-natured boy, this was quite out of character for him. He was hysterical and in incredible pain. Things were stopped up. Coming out, but stuck. Get the picture? My heart was beating fast and I was trying to squash my panic down as we all do when our children are in pain. He needed help, and quick. So I helped. Do you get it? It wasn’t pretty. It was stressful and one of those moments when you think, “Did I ever think I was going to be doing this?”
He was sore and crying, but very sweet and tender. He sat on our couch wrapped in a warm blanket for a couple of hours with a snack and a little movie. And then I seriously cried. I felt so sorry for him! The next place my mind went was to all the little guys who have had something like this happen to them, but they didn’t have their moms around to do these sorts of things for them.
This last week has been another time when I thought, “Thank God it’s me.” Patrick has been so difficult. He’s normally such a sweet, happy fellow, but last week he wanted me to carry his thirty pound body around almost every minute. I don’t know if it was his teeth, the kids being gone at school, or just a new little stage, but it’s not easy to lug him around! And if he happened to be settled and busy, it just meant he was up to no good. He would find a pen or a pencil laying around, or stand on his tippy toes and fish one out of the drawer, and write all over everything before I had a chance to stop him. (My walls are his canvas!)
He’s also hurt me, physically, ten times this week. Slammed a door shut on my ankle, gave me serious love bites, head butted me – the kind that makes your teeth click! (All on accident of course.) He smooshed my lipstick, dumped out bags of cereal, crinkled my new magazine, ran his stroller into my ankles. When we went on walks, they were as far from enjoyable as you could get. He was up and down other people’s driveways, in the street constantly, in and out of the stroller every minute, mad as heck when he didn’t get his way, and whining like crazy.
Do you get the picture? He tested every ounce of my patience. He was very unlikeable, but because I love him I could handle it. If it had been anybody else, they would seriously dislike this usually sweet, good-natured boy. No doubt in my mind.
These are the real reasons I’m glad I can always be there for my kids. The little things like bouts of colic, annoying stages, private bathroom dilemmas, runny noses, bad days (or weeks). The hard stuff. The “no fun” stuff.
I want to be the one that takes care of all those things. I trust myself. I’m his mother. Who loves him more? I love never having to doubt he’s getting the best care every day no matter how impossible he’s being. I don’t think anyone can do it better than me. I’m not conceited, bragging, or full of myself. I just know that my husband and I love these kids more than anyone else on earth.
When I say love, I don’t mean the typical meaning that comes to mind.
I mean love, the hard way.
QUESTION: How do you love “the hard way”?
CHALLENGE: If you’ve had experiences loving “the hard way”, take a minute to write some of them down.
Wow, I am impressed. I’m only 4.5 years into this mothering business, and I can’t say I’ve arrived at the level of appreciation of the “hard things” that you’ve described in your essay. Which is what makes it all the more inspiring!
I think you have made a very poignant point. I thought along those same lines last week as I drove to the local drug store at 1am…
As mothers, the ‘hard things’ are when we are most needed. Anyone can outstretch their arms to a newly walking baby, but it is a mom that often can offer the most comfort, support and love during the ‘hard times.’
Great article! Thanks.
So, so true. After 26 years of parenting six children and still not finish, I too am glad I have been there. The hard times when they were little, but even more, the teenage years when the wrong decisions were made and we had to love them through the consequences.
I will never forget my 19 year old saying, while during a Thanksgiving dinner where we were exchanging blessings to one another, “Thank you mom for standing toe to toe with me, and not backing down.” My heart was so blessed, because until he is a father he will never know how hard that was.
Good article,
Janette
You have such a great perspective on motherhood. Thanks for reinforcing my decision to stay home with my children – that despite the mundane moments, there are moments when no one but mom will do – and we never know when that will be!
I have a child who I say I love the “hardest” and I wouldn’t have it any other way. He has more than his fair share of hard moments but I’m so gla I’m the one who deals with them because nobody loves him like I do.
Love this post! Your little boy seems to be doing every same thing my little 19 month old boy is doing too!! Whew, yay for not being the only ones with little ones that can sure make for some trying-patience-times and big messes of dumped cheerios, crackers, craisins, smoothies, crayons, markers, game board pieces, whatever, you name it!! Not to mention lovely masterpieces of crayon, marker, pen, pencil, toothpaste, whatever the little guy can get his hands on, which he somehow seems to sneak out of the deepest crack and corner of the desk drawer or under the couch cushions, and end up in his mouth, smeared across his hands and face or on the wall! ha! Oh what joys the give-him-a-minute to explore and he will maximize-every-ounce-of-mess he can make will bring, as he adventures through this intriguing world around him!
I love hearing how you find yourself loving the hard parts most. I have been feeling that way too…sometimes even to the point where I sometimes look forward to the next time we all pass through another cold or they pick up the sniffles from their little germ-sharing friends, just so I can be there for those more somber, slowed down, yucky feeling times when they just-want-to-hold-mama, snuggle and be close. I wouldn’t have another person be there for them when they are experiencing the hard parts of life, because I know how my heart extends to infinity and back and melts more than words can even say to love them and care for them, and hold them in my arms. I love being a mom and I wouldn’t have life, even though it sure may be hard (because it’s sooo worth it to hold them close and see their smiles and eyes drift to sleep peacefully in my arms!) any other way! =D